


Wherever you go, I will follow

by zinikornis



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, what else to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinikornis/pseuds/zinikornis
Summary: In which Ragnar is a travel vlogger and gets an offer to fly to the UK, and in which a group of fangirls make his first meeting with Athelstan happen.((Feel empowered yet?))That's it. Enjoy!((Completed in advance, new chapters will be released every weekend.))
Relationships: Astrid/Lagertha (Vikings), Athelstan/Lagertha/Ragnar Lothbrok
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magyarul: { [Bárhová mész, én követlek 1.](https://andweweremadlyinlove.blogspot.com/2021/02/barhova-mesz-en-kovetlek-1.html) }

There’s a storm the day he leaves Denmark to return home. He talked a man into taking him back on his ship which is now rocking on the tempestuous sea. Heavy wind is slapping his face, some salty water with it too, as he’s leaning out the taffrail to breathe in the clear air.

The long-bearded captain looks at him with narrowed eyes and yells through the loud noise of the waves: “Ya gonna get cold!”

He shoves his hands in the pocket of his thin jacket and, looking back at the man with a playful grin, shrugs. “I’m used to it. I’m from around here too, you know.”

After the rocky ride through the North Sea, and an even rockier ride through highway E39 (which was only so rocky because he couldn’t reach anyone except his ex-girlfriend to get him, therefore the ride included lots of bickering), so after all that ordeal, he gets home and falls asleep instantly. He can’t even make sure he actually reaches his bed, by which his girlfriend wouldn’t be too thrilled about if she was there.

When he wakes up the next day, the first thing he feels is someone poking him. He giggles with his eyes still close, and, assuming it’s his unhappy girlfriend, pulls her to his chest.

Except that now he hears a man’s laugh, feels his struggling and kicking. He doesn’t really care though, squeezing him stronger and closer.

“Come on, I’m not Lagertha,” says the man as he finally breaks free. “Now get up.”

With his eyes still closed, he groans, and turns the other way.

“Ragnar, get up, or I’ll do worse than poking.”

He huffs and somehow manages to get into a sitting position. Rubbing his eyes, he sees Floki in front of him, just as he guessed.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he flashes a mocking grin. “What’s the rush?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the fact that I’ve been here for long enough to hear this damn thing beeping constantly,” Floki waves his phone in his face.

Ragnar grabs it. He has several notifications, as usual, but Floki has his Instagram DM page opened up. He has a new message from some kind of a company. After skim-reading it, he realizes it’s a request for him to visit the UK on their behalf.

He raises his eyes back to Floki who is watching him with visible excitement.

“Can I come too?”

“I don’t know, can you? And since when do you know my password?”

He gathers some energy to get up to his feet and walk to the kitchen. Floki follows.

“Hehe, it’s actually not that hard. Björn’s birthday, really? No wonder who is your favorite son…”

“I do not have a favorite,” he states while grabbing the bread and a knife. “But he _is_ my firstborn.”

“Meaning, he’s your favorite.”

“Oh, shut up, Floki.”

The man giggles as Ragnar strikes in his direction with the knife, along with throwing some crumbles.

“ _You_ are cleaning that up, right?”

Ragnar turns to see a very beautiful (as usual) and very threatening (as usual) Lagertha standing in the door. He flashes a wide grin.

“Well of course, my love,” he says, approaching his girlfriend. He puts an arm around her slim waist and presses a kiss on her lips. As he heads back to prepare his sandwich, he asks: “Where were you? Your phone was off and I had to call Aslaug to get me from the port.” He almost makes an _“ugh”_ sound after the sentence, but he heroically resists the urge, instead he just settles with an eyeroll.

“I was at Astrid’s.”

“Oooh. Did you have fun?” Ragnar asks with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

“We did. Did you?”

“Certainly not with Aslaug,” he says while sitting up on the counter to eat his sandwich. “All she can do is bitch about this and that.”

Floki, seemingly bored, starts to make a sandwich for himself too while adding: “We all know her and we are all confused why you were ever with her.”

“In Denmark, I mean,” Lagertha clarifies, preventing the topic from escalating.

“You can check out my video once I edit and upload it. Don’t forget to hit the subscribe button‒” Ragnar jokes. “But it was great, yes.”

“How are the women?” Floki throws in the question with a teasing grin.

“Ask them yourself.”

“You haven’t tried any?”

Lagertha coughs.

Floki stares at her with those big eyes that often spooked others but never his friends. “What?” He looks at Ragnar helplessly. “Was that sexist?”

Ragnar smiles softly, and shakes his head: “I slept with one. I didn’t ask but I think she was fine.”

“Oh shut it, it’s not funny, those little word-plays of yours,” Floki says, accompanied with his wild hand gestures, and stuffs his mouth with his sandwich. Then he looks up at Lagertha excitedly. “Did you know Ragnar is going to the UK?”

“Really? When?”

“She can’t possibly know,” Ragnar rolls his eyes. “Even I only learned about it like five minutes ago.”

“Don’t underestimate her. She knows _everything_ ,” Floki whispers dramatically.

Ragnar watches Lagertha smile to herself, and answers the original question. “I’m not sure when, I’ll talk to the company, but yeah, it seems like I’m going away again soon. Is that okay?”

“Sure, it’s your job,” Lagertha says. “I can take care of myself, the boys are all grown-ups… it’s fine. Look, I’ve gotta run now, some of us don’t have such an easy job as yours,” she smiles teasingly. “You’ll tell me about the girl tonight, yeah?”

“Naturally,” Ragnar says as his girlfriend kisses his cheek, then she vanishes behind the door.

Floki eyes him with an expecting look. “But you’ll tell me about the girl _now_ , right?”

  
  


After packing his bag once again, he stomps out to the car, leaving his big footprints in the snow. They mark home: he was here, and he’ll be coming back.

This ride was less rocky, considering that Lagertha was in the driver’s seat; in fact, upon arriving at the airport, they immediately found themselves in the midst of a quickie in the bathroom. Before lining up for check-in, Ragnar kissed her goodbye in a bit less uncensored way, and now he’s here, staring out the small window with his head against the wall of the plane, contemplating what strategy to use when he meets the company paying for his trip.

The plane is still on the ground, and because Ragnar is the type of guy who turns his phone off in the very last minute, he pulls it from his pocket to check the site of the company. He can only remember it’s called Saxonate, they promote (and maybe even make?) lumberjack clothes and tools, such as saws and axes, and, as they wrote in their message, they think Ragnar looks perfect for modeling for them, which he, of course, can’t deny ‒ he does have a kind of lumberjack-y look indeed.

Before he could open up their page though, he gets flooded by notifications. Wrinkling his forehead, he scrolls through them. There are numerous tweets saying things like:

_@RagnarLothbrok is coming to the UK guys!!! Do u know what that means?_

And no, he doesn’t know what that means. Then he finds the tweets from several young girls, and as he reads some, he can practically hear them screaming, all excited and everything.

_@RagnarLothbrok and @AthelstanArt should make a video together!_

_Guys can you imagine how cute @RagnarLothbrok and @AthelstanArt would be???_

_Ok but imagine @AthelstanArt when he sees those blue eyes of @RagnarLothbrok…_

“Now we request your full attention,” a soft lady voice begins, “as the flight attendants demonstrate the safety features of this aircraft.”

Ragnar doesn’t even bother looking up; he’s heard and seen this little orientation show so many times that he could probably present it himself. Instead, he checks out some more notifications of tweets and other posts of girls freaking out over him going to the UK and possibly meeting this Athelstan person.

He then taps the tagged name on an Instagram post. The page is full of professionally photographed… colors. And Ragnar doesn’t know shit about art but he can notice this is religious, and also that it seems like something personal is being shown to the public. Ragnar taps on a photo and examines it but he can’t really understand, so he scrolls down, and down, and down, and none of the pictures make sense to him, but at least he succeeds in finding out that this is a man, and that he doesn’t have any photos posted of himself. However, something does catch his eye: familiar-looking words under an older painting that differs from all the others; somehow it’s harsher. The caption reads:

_“Og du, barn, skal kallast profet for Den høgste, for du skal gå fram føre Herren og rydda hans vegar og læra folket hans å kjenna frelsa når deira synder blir tilgjevne, for vår Gud er rik på miskunn. Slik skal lyset frå det høge gjesta oss som ein soloppgang og skina for dei som bur i mørker og dødens skugge, og styra våre føter inn på fredens veg.”_

_“And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death to guide our feet into the path of peace.”_

_(Luke 1:76-80)_

And a smile spreads on Ragnar’s face.

“…make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position,” the soft lady voice calls as some signs light up in front of the passengers, “and that your seatbelt is correctly fastened. Also, your portable electronic devices must be turned off or set to airplane mode until an announcement is made upon arrival. Thank you.”

Ragnar sighs, turns off his phone, and leans back to his previous position to stare out the window. He doesn’t plan on moving until landing. It’s a short flight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter of a fanfiction about love on Valentine's Day because I have no love life. I hope you'll like it:))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magyarul: { [Bárhová mész, én követlek 2.](https://andweweremadlyinlove.blogspot.com/2021/02/barhova-mesz-en-kovetlek-2.html) }

After claiming his luggage, he realizes, to his complete surprise, that there are some fancy-looking people in the waiting area holding up a board with his name on it. Upon approaching them, it turns out they were sent by the head of Saxonate, and are going to deliver him right to the hotel. They also inform him on their way that the first interview would take place tomorrow if he agrees as well. Ragnar feels it’s not really up to him but nods in agreement.

The hotel looks expensive, not what he’s used to, and he ‒ awkwardly, if he’d know how to be awkward ‒ feels like a filthy savage among all these fancy people. Instead of fixing his eyes on the ground or mumbling, he just marches to the front desk, checks in, confidently withstands the judging gazes, and heads up to his room. Which, by the way, looks just as expensive as the rest of the place, of course.

His bags land on the floor with a thud, and without looking around, he spreads out on the bed. After a short period of laziness, he sets up the wifi on his phone, and goes back to this artist guy’s Instagram profile. There’s no Youtube channel linked to it, nor any social media account other than Twitter.

His fingers stop and hover above the “send a message” button for a while. With a shrug, he proceeds.

**@RL:** Hello Athelstan, you probably saw the amount of interest in us collaborating. I was thinking we could discuss that. Are you available?

It’s not the best he could’ve written but Ragnar isn’t the overthinking type. He jumps up and starts unpacking. Having already thrown half of his clothes into the closet, the phone beeps, and he runs to check if it’s from Athelstan. It is.

**@AA:** Hi Ragnar, I have just discovered this demand. I have also taken a look at your social sites, and I am unsure about how we would be able to collaborate, seeing that your main tool is video making and I am not interested in that.

Ragnar huffs and types:

**@RL:** Well, that’s why I suggested we meet and find that out. Where are you?

He almost immediately receives a response.

**@AA:** I’m in Lindisfarne, but yet again, I’m not sure there is a way of us collaborating.

Pulling up Google Maps, he searches for the mentioned place, and when he sees where it is, the wrinkles around his eyes appear and he laughs out loud. The guy who creates religious paintings is on an island called the Holy Island. His laugh soon becomes uncontrollable.

After the laughing dies out, he shoves a few essential things in his backpack, slings it on his shoulder, and leaves his room. There’s a faint memory in his brain about those pick-up guys saying something like “The boss requests you rest now, to be fresh tomorrow,” but he forgets it as soon as he steps out on the street.

Well, if he called those earlier rides rocky, this was… he doesn’t even have words for this one. He did see this is a very small island, that’s why he started the journey even though the artist guy didn’t reply to him asking for his address, but he wasn’t expecting  _ this. _

This island was weird, to say the least. First of all, Ragnar expected a ferry at some point; instead, there was an actual road. Secondly, he expected the Holy Island to be, well, an island; instead, looking out the bus window, he saw watery land. Sure, he knows what a tide is, but still, this area was blue on the map. And thirdly, he expected this place to be small, but when they reached the island, which was somewhat hard to tell because at first there was nothing ‒ or rather, the view remained the same ‒, he realized just how small it is, thus how amazingly easy it will really be to find a guy named Athelstan here.

So when the bus arrives at the town center, Ragnar jumps off rather victoriously.

He greets the first person he sees and politely asks if she, by any chance, knows where a certain Athelstan lives. The old lady laughs. “Dear, we’re about a hundred people here, we all know each other,” and continues with a vague description of how to get there, punctuated with the frequent use of the phrases “you’ll see” and “can’t miss.”

He grins at the old lady as a thank you.

On his way, he passes some more elders who stare at him from windows and the sides of the road. Sure, he has an unusual look, kind of odd, kind of different, might be offensive even to a specific crowd. It isn’t like this at home where his friends and family have the same mentality and similar exterior, and he likes being unique abroad, but he’s never gotten this much attention anywhere before. He’s not sure whether he likes it. He’s sure though that he doesn’t really care.

He stops in front of a house that very much resembles the one the old lady described. Well, she didn’t give many clues, but this house does have, he thinks, “a nice feel to it,” a blue door, and “oh, that wonderful garden ‒ even I can’t make mine that lovely.”

He briefly weighs his options: writing a message to the guy with the information that he’s standing right outside his blue door or simply knocking. Of course he decides on the second one.

When the door opens, he gets to lay eyes on the most beautiful man he’s seen so far. (And yes, he knows Floki would be offended, but even with his jealousy in mind, he can’t deny it.)

“Wow,” Ragnar says unapologetically. “You shouldn’t be hiding that face from the world.”

The man is staring into his eyes like a deer caught in the headlights.

_ “Du er Ragnar,” _ he mumbles with a slightly noticeable accent.

Said man’s lips grow into a smile, feeling more and more intrigued.  _ “Og du er Athelstan.” _

“How did you even‒ I mean I didn’t‒”

Ragnar impatiently marches through the doorway, which might be impolite, but yet again, he doesn’t really care about these little meaningless things like manners and etcetera. While kicking off his boots and making his way forward, he explains: “I got here and I asked the first person. Wasn’t hard. By the way, it was this old lady, she said you have a lovely garden.”

“Oh, that must be Rose, dear soul,” the man says as he follows Ragnar to the humble living room, “I see I’ll need to talk to her again about referring strangers to me…”

Ragnar throws himself down into the couch. “So you get this a lot?”

Athelstan shrugs and sits in the armchair across from him. “Well, not a lot. People are usually hesitant to come to a strange island‒”

“I can imagine you’ve got some followers with blind faith who are very keen on getting to know you.”

Athelstan looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Ragnar laughs in response.

“No, see, it’s different, I’m here for business. My followers asked, I’m obeying.”

The man smiles sheepishly, and asks: “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure,” Ragnar nods.

While Athelstan is occupied in the kitchen, he raids and explores the room, examining a few items, however he arrives at the conclusion that the guy doesn’t have many personal belongings. Or at least not in his living room.

As he hears Athelstan approaching, he shouts the question his brain formed. “How come you speak Norwegian?”

The man sets down a tray on the table, and after pouring tea in the two cups, he answers shyly. “I picked up a few words when I was travelling, nothing much.”

“You also travelled?” Ragnar accepts the cup the other man is holding out to him and takes a sip. It’s not bad but he can’t fight down a grimace, to which Athelstan responds with a worried look, so he adds: “It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting milk in it. I should have, of course.”

“I‒ I’m sorry, I can make another one‒”

“No, it’s fine.”

Athelstan sits back down with his cup in his hand and clears his throat. “My travels served more of a religious purpose.”

Ragnar just nods because he can’t fully understand that, but then, thinking of it, he says: “Actually, that’s what I’m doing too, in a way.”

They stare at each other silently for a while.

Ragnar makes a mental note of how honest and pure the other man’s eyes are. They’re not as blue as his own but very pretty nonetheless, and they make him feel like he’s looking right into, as Ragnar imagines, his equally honest and pure soul.

“So,” Ragnar finally speaks, along with a flirtatious grin, “would you like to do something together?”

He watches as Athelstan’s cheeks turn pink and, if that’s possible, he looks even more sheepish now. “I’m‒ I don’t make videos.”

“I’d be making it,” Ragnar jokes.

“I mean‒”

“Why are you hiding your beautiful face? Are you a fugitive?”

Athelstan jerks his head up. “No!” Then he blushes again. “Don’t say that.”

“So then what?”

“They‒” He shrugs and fixes his gaze on the floor. “I just don’t believe it serves a purpose, me showing myself.”

Ragnar narrows his eyes, and tries to figure out the real reason because he can see this was not the real reason, or what to ask for the truth to be revealed. After some consideration, he decides to just go for it: “That was not the truth. Tell me the truth. Maybe I can help. I’ve got experience in video making, I’ve got connections all over the world. Whatever it is, I should be able to help.”

Athelstan fidgets with his fingers, looking uncomfortable. After all, he’s being forced to answer a possibly personal question by an unwanted intruder in his house whom he doesn’t even know. Ragnar can see how it could make him uncomfortable ‒ he does not care, however. Whatever it is, it won’t get better if he doesn’t tell someone about it, and they might not meet ever again, so he’s really the perfect candidate to talk to.

Similar thoughts could have run through the man’s head because he glances up and coyly spits out: “I just don’t like how I look. That’s all.”

And at that, Ragnar is startled. He blinks in surprise. How is he supposed to help with that?

“Ehm… you don’t need to say anything, it’s‒”

“No, I do, and I will, I’m just not sure what… You know what? Fuck it.” Ragnar leans forward. “You know what I thought when you opened the door? I thought: this is the most beautiful man I ever got the lucky opportunity to see.” Ragnar smiles as Athelstan blushes once again, and continues with more courage. “And your eyes, those are really something. If you’re beautiful, then your eyes are… magnificent. Check out my vocabulary, wow.”

Athelstan lets out a little laugh and waves his hand. “Okay, stop, stop. Thank you. Similar thoughts were running through my mind as well, actually. Even though I’m sure my eyes are nothing compared to yours…”

Ragnar flashes a confident smile. “It’s all about what you believe about yourself. You see, I can convince myself of anything. If I want to think, I don’t know, for example that I’m the king of Denmark, I will, in fact‒”

“Become the king of Denmark?”

“Well, maybe not,” Ragnar chuckles. “But who knows?”

Athelstan’s laugh is short and gentle, polite in every possible way, and it delights Ragnar, and suddenly he wants to know what other noises he could draw out of the man.

“No but you know, if you believe you can do or be something, it will be so. That’s what I do. Just follow my lead.”

The man smiles at him softly and nods.

So, half forced, half willingly, Athelstan joins him in brainstorming about the subject of the video. They get along pretty smoothly.

After numerous cups of milky tea, many papers full of ideas with messy, big letters by Ragnar, and one piece of tight and neat notes by Athelstan, Ragnar scans the house for a spot with a fitting background and enough light. He decides the backyard would be the best option. When Athelstan wants to know why, he just answers “Because of your lovely garden,” to which he gets a shy laugh.

When the equipment is set, he directs Athelstan where to stand. Then he asks what he should do, and Ragnar laughs and says “Just see what I do,” so he does. They get so lost in the process that Ragnar only notices how much time has passed by the darkening sky.

“I guess I have to go,” he says, “we can finish this another time.”

Athelstan nods, and follows Ragnar back into the house. He puts away the cups and tray and all the things on it, all the remaining evidence of this blue-eyed Norseman having been here.

Ragnar zips the bag around the camera. “I hope I have some coins in here somewhere,” he mumbles as he runs his hand through a pocket. “I don’t think I can pay with a card on these buses…”

“Oh.”

Ragnar looks up. “Oh?”

“I thought you were going by car. I don’t think there are any more buses today.”

“Oh.” Ragnar drops on the floor from his squatting position. “I did try hitchhiking a handful of times but people usually don’t like picking up a strange man looking like this. I’m guessing it’s even more true here.”

“I could ask somebody to give you a ride, maybe Rose would be up for a trip‒ Oh, but her car broke down last week,” Athelstan starts thinking out loud.

“I can walk back to the hotel,” Ragnar shrugs.

“That’s a long journey.”

“I’ve done long journeys.”

Athelstan rubs his nose in a thinking way, then suggests: “Well, I guess you could spend the night here. I’ve got a couch…”

“So you’re not inviting me to share your bed?” Ragnar flashes a teasing grin.

Athelstan, of course, blushes. “I don’t do that.”

“What do you mean? At all?”

“It’s been a long while since I last did that.”

“Is it a religious thing?”

“Well, it has become something like that.”

Ragnar raises an eyebrow.

“I really hurt someone a long time ago,” Athelstan admits, “after that I vowed to stay alone for a while, and additionally it has helped me develop a closer connection to God.”

“So you’re not planning on keeping this up forever, right?”

Athelstan lets out a small laugh. “I guess I could say I’m waiting for the right person.” He extends a hand to Ragnar on the floor and helps him up. “Come, I’ll make your bed.”

“Couch,” Ragnar huffs, and Athelstan laughs.

  
  


The message is short, simple and exact, informing him about the location of the interview the next day, which is the Saxonate building itself, and the time. There’s no place for questions, nor negotiation. He tries to check which bus would take him there on time, but it is loading so slowly that he gives up, thinking what will be, will be.

He joins Athelstan in the kitchen to make dinner. They talk about religion.

When they sit down to eat, Ragnar automatically lifts his fork, but then places it back and looks at Athelstan patiently.

He looks back at him. “Thank you,” he says with a smile, and bows his head down.

Ragnar hears his rapid whispering and he finds himself curious. When Athelstan raises his head back again, he asks: “What did you tell your God?”

Athelstan looks him in the eyes, his face reflecting doubt and suspicion at first, then it goes softer. “I thanked the Lord for our food.”

“But you made your food.”

“I’m thanking the Lord for the food because it is Him from whom all our blessings flow, and to eat is a merciful blessing. Every meal is a miracle.”

“A miracle?” Ragnar lets out a small laugh, and lifts his fork again.

“You don’t know what a miracle is?”

“Of course I know what a miracle is,” Ragnar says. “Generally, I do. I’m just not sure I know what you mean by it.”

“For me, a miracle is…” He pauses briefly to think it through, then says: “Miracles are things which are impossible to do.”

Ragnar looks at him, weighs all the possible things he could respond with, but there aren’t many, so he just nods and slowly takes a bite of his food.

He decides Athelstan is a miracle.

After they washed the dishes together (which actually proved to be much more fun than Ragnar initially expected), Athelstan excuses himself and disappears behind a door that Ragnar suspects is to his bedroom. A few minutes later he reappears, now there’s a very good-guy-ish pajama on a very good-guy-ish man. Ragnar smiles at him mockingly, to which, of course, Athelstan blushes and looks away, because what else would he do.

He steps closer to the man and rests his big hands on his cotton-covered chest. “Do you want to watch something?”

Athelstan looks confused, and Ragnar must admit, he’s never seen anyone looking more adorably confused. He does admit it out loud too. In response Athelstan, well, blushes. And giggles, additionally, as a development.

“What?” Ragnar asks finally, stroking small circles with one hand. “You don’t have movies in your night routine?”

“Oh, movies!”

“Uhm, yeah. I wasn’t thinking of watching the stars or some sloppy romantic shit.”

Athelstan giggles again which makes Ragnar smile. “In that case, I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t actually have a device available for  _ choosing  _ a movie…”

“You don’t have a device available for‒ What does that even mean? Do you have a TV?”

“I do but it only has three channels.”

Ragnar makes a face. “I mean… okay, that could work, I guess. Where is it?”

Athelstan fidgets with his fingers and nods in the direction of the door he disappeared behind moments ago. “In my bedroom.”

He makes his way to his backpack, unzips and drops his pants on the top of it, and in a t-shirt and boxers, now serving as pajamas, marches into the mentioned room.

It’s just as humble as the rest of the house. It’s not big, and the bed ‒ not double but a little wider than a single-person one ‒ takes up most of its space; except that, there’s only a nightstand on one side, and a chair in front of a table with a book on it which, judging from the cross on it, seems to be the Bible. The walls are plain white and the floor is made of simple wood, similarly to the outside design.

He throws himself on the bed, spreading, with a wide grin. “It’s much comfier than it looks!”

Athelstan smiles at him, then squats in front of the small TV and pushes some buttons on it.

“You don’t have a remote control?”

“There should be one somewhere…” Athelstan stands and leans to see behind the screen. What Ragnar is seeing is his butt, for which he doesn’t complain though. “Here it is. But the on/off button doesn’t work.”

He makes his way to the bed. There he hesitates for a few brief moments, and Ragnar smiles at him innocently. At last, he shyly nudges Ragnar in the ribs, to which he laughs and makes space for the true owner of the bed.

“So,” Ragnar focuses on the screen that is showing a serious-looking man, “I’m guessing this is the news?”

“You’re right. There’s this other one,” Athelstan clumsily presses the volume button first, and only then does he manage to change the channel.

“It’s something religious as I see.”

“Yes. And then here’s the third…”

Ragnar watches it for a minute, then shrugs. “At least there’s laughter on this one.” And with that he leans against the wall. Athelstan does the same.

As they watch the sitcom episode about two old men trying to sell pants, Athelstan gradually snuggles up to his side. It feels nicer than it probably should. He throws an arm around the man’s shoulder and starts stroking his chest with his hand. Then David Beckham makes an appearance on the show whom Athelstan doesn’t recognize, Ragnar is sure of it, until it’s made clear. It’s actually not a bad show, he decides.

Athelstan falls asleep on his chest, so he doesn’t get up. He’s actually happy about this turn of events.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magyarul: { [Bárhová mész, én követlek 3.](https://andweweremadlyinlove.blogspot.com/2021/02/barhova-mesz-en-kovetlek-3.html) }

Miraculously, he manages to arrive at the Saxonate building on time the next day. He can’t say it was easy but he managed to do it, and he is proud of himself.

He enters the building and approaches the front desk immediately. After informing the young man about why he’s here, he exchanges meaningful glances with one of the guards by the door. The guard comes closer, and the receptionist tells Ragnar to follow him.

The guard starts walking and Ragnar does as he’s been told. They pass some sculptures on their way, and he, being the curious man he is, stops to examine a few odd ones. Many are woman figures, actually. He runs his fingers along the face of a man, and, judging by their looks, he isn’t surprised its touch is rough. These aren’t the usual white, smooth-looking sculptures you see in museums ‒ these are grey and brown and look like they were formed out of sand. They look like a time-capsule from ancient times, like a fading memory owned by someone who is desperate not to forget them.

When the guard leads him into a dimly-lit room, he immediately spots the loosely dressed man sitting on a huge, cushy couch in the center of the space. He quickly scans the room, finding that there are only a few tripods and camera equipment in here besides the couch and the man sitting on it in kingly splendor; otherwise, similarly to the whole building, the room shows its old-fashioned architecture with great pride.

“Ragnar Lothbrok is here, sir.”

“You can leave us now,” the man addresses the guard who, with a nod, steps out of the room, and closes the door. “Won’t you join me?” He pats the couch next to himself.

Ragnar eyes him suspiciously. The man’s beard is shorter than his and lighter in color, and his face seems welcoming but also portrays a great deal of determination. Whether good or bad, Ragnar can’t decide yet. However it may be, he slowly makes his way over to the couch and sits on the other end of it.

“I am Ecbert King, owner of the Saxonate company. Please just call me Ecbert.” He extends a hand which Ragnar takes and squeezes lightly. The man returns his arm to the back of the couch. “Yes, I know there was an actual king with that name,” he shakes his head with a smile, then his face goes stern. “I suppose my parents were just as ambitious as I am.”

Ragnar smiles dishonestly.

“So, to business then. I hope you enjoyed your stay yesterday and rested well. Did you like the hotel?”

Ragnar smirks and rolls his head down. It’s a question the man obviously wasn’t expecting an answer to, as he continues on with his speech. It seems like he had previously thought about what he was going to say when Ragnar arrives.

“I freed up my calendar for today, I wanted to work with you personally. Let me share my ideas.”

So he does, and Ragnar pays attention. It’s a short talk ‒ mainly consisting of Ecbert doing the talking ‒, and their dynamics don’t really change either when they get to the actual photoshoot part.

They finish in no time, less than the other few photoshoots he’s been to, but more meaningful too: he feels a deep energy surrounding the two of them the whole time. It’s not necessarily romantic but it could turn into that, not friendship-like either but it could turn into that; and not enemy-like but right now their relationship seems to be the nearest to this last one. It is just that, he decides: a sense of similarity and understanding between them, and lots of potential neither one of them can identify just yet.

At the end of the meeting, Ecbert hands him an envelope in which Ragnar finds a ticket for a plane leaving tomorrow at 9 am. He smirks at the man and leaves the room and the building as well.

Sadness washes over him, a kind yet unbeknown to him. On his way back to the hotel, he types a message to Athelstan.

**@RL:** Mr Bigboss sends me back home first thing in the morning.

**@RL:** But I was planning on showing up again at your doorstep uninvited :(

After making his way through the hotel lobby once more, widening his shoulders as much as possible to show his dominance, he enters his room, and grabs his camera bag. Now it’s time to make a video about this place. Well, not the hotel but the city.

As he’s closing the door behind himself, he hears his phone beep, so he pulls it out excitedly.

**@AA:** Well, what’s your plan for the rest of today?

His stomach flips and a triumphant smile creeps up to his face which he can’t get rid of for a while after. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling triumphant. Where did this word even come from?

**@RL:** I have to make a video about the city. You know, it’s my job.

As he’s galloping down the stairs, he’s practically flying, and once he’s out on the street and starts the camera, he can’t help but film himself with that comically big smile on his face.

When his phone beeps, he stops filming right away and checks the message.

**@AA:** I can join if you’d like.

**@RL:** Meet me at the station ;)

He doesn’t even know what’s up with that winky face ‒ there’s nothing even remotely sexual about this message ‒ but he couldn’t help himself. It just felt right, putting it there.

He takes his time filming the area, knowing that it will take some time for Athelstan to get here. As he slowly makes his way over to the station, he already feels satisfied with the content he’s made. Of course it’s not enough yet for a good video but he can certainly work with this city, capturing several interesting spots in it.

It could turn out pretty well if he filmed Athelstan arriving too, he decides, so he works out where to place the camera so that both of them would be in frame, and then he tries to act it out a few times to make sure it looks the way he wants it to. A few passersby watched him suspiciously but he had gotten used to it. Then he sits down beside the camera and waits. He’s pretty good at that if he wants to.

Soon he sees a vehicle pull up and he jumps up simultaneously when he sees Athelstan get off. He starts the recording and stands where he’s previously planned out he should.

Athelstan approaches him hurriedly and he instantly pulls him into a big hug. They hold it just a bit too long for it to be casual ‒ and Ragnar might have smelled the guy’s hair (it was delicious) ‒, so they loosen it up a bit after a while, but Ragnar doesn’t let go entirely. Only after looking deeply into Athelstan’s smiling eyes with just a short distance between them does he drop his arms and run to stop the recording (which he kind of forgot about).

They rummage through the city, and Athelstan actually makes the video more interesting in many ways, one of them being that he seems to know an excessive amount of information about its history which he is generously sharing.

After a while they find a nice-looking café where they decide to sit down and drink something. Ragnar sets the camera down to the side and orders a coffee, telling Athelstan how he must try the coffee at his favorite place back home one day.

They laugh and talk about silly things, and Ragnar finds he hasn’t felt his carelessly joyful in a while.

He also finds, after they pay and leave, that the camera ‒ which he, by total accident, set down in a perfect angle ‒ recorded the whole thing. This realization brings him even more joy because this means he’ll be able to rewatch this any time he wants to. And, as a bonus, if he cuts it right and speeds it up, it’ll make an awesome little shot he can do a voiceover for.

Then he also has to realise that the camera, having been up and running this whole time, now signals a threateningly low battery. After telling this to Athelstan, the man’s happiness fades a little bit.

Reality has this terrible way of interfering, doesn’t it? When you seem to forget about it and feel light as a feather, floating in the air, it comes knocking and drags you down back to earth.

Ragnar sighs. “Well then. This has been fun.”

“It has. I’m glad I could join you.”

Ragnar stops in front of the man ‒ he’s so close to him now, and soon they’ll be so far from each other ‒, and a sentence comes out of his mouth before he can even think about it: “You should come back to the hotel with me.” It sounds less as a gentle invitation and more like an order, and Ragnar regrets it came out this way, but Athelstan doesn’t seem to mind.

The smile returns to his face and nods. “Gladly,” he says, and follows Ragnar back to the fancy building.

This time the two of them cross the lobby full of judging gazes, and Ragnar feels empowered by the presence of this adorable Englishman.

After he opens the door to his room, Ragnar doesn’t even wait for them to fully enter before he cups Athelstan’s face with his big hands and, pinning him to the wall, kisses him. A wave of relief washes over him when Athelstan, after a little pause of surprise, kisses him back.

Ragnar shuts the door with his leg, and navigates them all the way to the bed where he pushes the man down but he falls as well. He giggles into Athelstan’s mouth which makes the man giggle too. Ragnar rolls on top, and starts unbuttoning the tidy shirt underneath him and placing small kisses along the way as he does so. When he gets to the last button, he folds it open and traces the revealed skin with his lips. He unbuckles the belt and unzips the jeans too, and feels the hotness radiating from under, but then Athelstan pulls him back up, so he tugs down the man’s jeans while kissing him.

Athelstan runs his fingers under Ragnar’s t-shirt, pulls it over his head, and as he takes a look at his now naked upper body, Ragnar feels the man’s cock twitch against his thigh.

He grins and whispers in Athelstan’s ear: “You want me real bad now, huh?”

“I wanted you all day,” he whispers back as he grabs the waistline of Ragnar’s jeans.

When they both manage to get naked, they roll around on the bed for a while, their bodies pressed together, kissing passionately, and biting on Ragnar’s end (but the other man’s enjoying it, judging by his moans and hardness).

At some point, Ragnar gets up and finds a condom and a bottle of lube in his bag. Turning back to the man waiting on the bed, he sees something in his eyes he doesn’t like so much, so he approaches with carefulness and kindness.

He climbs on top of Athelstan slowly but just watches, and asks, “What’s the matter?”

“I, uhm‒ nothing…”

“Come on,” he whispers in his ear, pressing some kisses on his neck while waiting for approval of further actions.

“Well, as I said, I haven’t done this in a long time. I’m simply worried. And, uhm…”

“It’s okay, it’ll come back easily. You can’t forget this,” Ragnar winks and presses a quick kiss on those charming lips.

“It didn’t come up but… you know, I haven’t done this at all,” Athelstan gestures in the small distance between his bodies.

“You haven’t had sex before?”

“No, I have… not a lot but I have. I meant I haven’t done  _ this  _ exactly.”

“You haven’t been with a man before?”

“I haven’t been with a man before.”

Ragnar smiles. “I’ll be gentle. I’ll take care of you.”

Athelstan smiles back and nods. Ragnar can see in those blue eyes that he believes and trusts him. He kisses him deeply and presses his whole body as close to the other man’s as physically possible, and he wishes they could stay like this forever.

A thought enters his mind, and it’s the only thing he can think of when he cums: Athelstan said he’s waiting for the right person. He smiles widely, cums hard, and feels more satisfied than ever, probably.

They fall asleep in a very similar position later, both of them satisfied and content and happy, and they wake up in a completely different one.

Ragnar slaps his phone with his fingers to stop the sound, and as he opens his eyes, he feels something poking in between his ribs and doesn’t feel an arm. The latter is, he realises, because Athelstan is lying on it, and presumably has been lying on it for a while now. Even though he can’t exactly identify the poking as he has his back to Athelstan, he assumes one of the man’s bones is causing it. He’s got a few sticking out, for example his pelvis, the effect of which he comes aware of now that he thinks about it: an aching in a certain area of his thighs every time he moves it even the slightest. He has almost forgotten how this feels, it’s been a few months since his last time with a man.

Of course, this night was something different; he feels joy basically radiating from his heart and the satisfaction deep within isn’t only because he’s had the best orgasms last night in a while. No, this was something entirely different. It still is. Will it last?

He surely is going to try to make it last.

He struggles for a few minutes with freeing his arm, and turns to face Athelstan upon success who is lying in a very odd position (which explains why Ragnar woke up so uncomfortable). Beaming at him through a heartfelt smile, he starts gently stroking his hair and shoulder.

Athelstan slowly opens his eyes and blinks at Ragnar sleepily.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Ragnar whispers.

Athelstan smiles sheepishly and rearranges his body parts to be able to snuggle up to Ragnar more comfortably. “Good morning,” he mumbles into his chest.

“I really hate to rush things, Sleeping Beauty, but I have to leave soon. I wish I wouldn’t have to.”

“Nooo,” Athelstan whines and wiggles impossibly close.

Ragnar giggles. “They’re going to kick us out of the room.”

Athelstan huffs, and Ragnar shivers from the feel of the breath on his bare skin. He rolls onto his back and sits up. After rubbing his face, he gets out of bed, and Ragnar watches his full ass with a big grin.

“Hey,” Ragnar calls, making Athelstan turn back, and his grin grows ever bigger. “I think there’s still time for a shower.”

Athelstan smiles back at him with a suggestive face before entering the bathroom. Ragnar doesn’t waste any more precious time to follow him.

Their hot shower together (like, hot as in sexy, but also hot because, really, Athelstan, you seriously need the water to be  _ that  _ hot?) took more time than they expected (they weren’t really paying attention to  _ that  _ little detail), therefore after getting out, Ragnar packs his stuff nearly at light speed, while Athelstan is desperately trying to help by folding his clothes, but in reality, it just slows down the process. Ragnar is grateful nevertheless.

He checks out with Athelstan by his side, and the receptionist eyes them in a weird way which Ragnar suspects is because of their freshly-fucked looks and Athelstan not being an official guest but she doesn’t mention any of it.

Once they’re out on the streets, Ragnar looks at Athelstan and with a smile intended to be charming, he asks (or demands): “Come with me to the airport?” And Athelstan, of course, gives in happily.

The only reason Ragnar asked this is that he wants to spend with him as much time as possible. He is training his mind to be able to handle the situation he dreads when it comes ‒ the point where they need to say goodbye. And it comes faster than he expects; they find themselves at the airport entrance in no time, and he can’t postpone it any longer as his flight leaves soon and he has to register his luggage and he has to get on board… and he has to say goodbye.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go back home to his family and friends, because he does, he really does, he loves and misses them, but he also doesn’t want to leave Athelstan behind. He needs him in his life. He needs him by his side. However, it has been only two days ‒ and today’s few hours ‒ they spent together, he shouldn’t be feeling this intensely after just such a short time, so he doesn’t say anything because he really doesn’t want to mess this up.

He turns to Athelstan and looks into his sad eyes. “So,” he says.

“So,” Athelstan answers. They look at each other some more. “You really have to go,” he adds, and it sounds just as much of a question than a statement.

“Yeah,” Ragnar huffs. “You should come visit soon,” he suggests because this is the gentlest way he can put it.

The man smiles like you smile at a child who has yet to understand the ways of the world. “I might.”

Ragnar nods with a stern face. He gets it, at least he thinks so; if nothing else, he gets that the man doesn’t intend to come visit.

“You have my number, right?” Athelstan asks. “Call me when you land safely. I’ll be praying for you.”

Ragnar’s lips grow into a smile. “Sure. Planes rarely crash anymore but thanks anyway.”

“I just have this fear‒ I don’t fly.”

Ragnar just shakes his head and pulls the man into a loving hug. They hold it all the while a lady voice is announcing that this is the last call for the flight to Norway, then they let go.

“Goodbye, Athelstan.”

“Goodbye, Ragnar.”

And Ragnar turns and walks away. That was it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'm sorry chapter's here it's fine everything's fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magyarul: { [Bárhová mész, én követlek 4.](https://andweweremadlyinlove.blogspot.com/2021/03/barhova-mesz-en-kovetlek-4.html) }

“I’m home!” Ragnar shouts when he enters the Lothbrok house, mainly just to check who is there (there are always some people). Some yells come in return. He can only identify a few. He drops his bag near the door, and before walking into the living room where the yells were coming from, he sends a quick text to Athelstan.

 **@RL:** I’m home, gotta catch up with the guys, call you later :*

As he enters the living room, he sees Björn thrown over the couch with his legs in Halfdan’s lap, beside him Floki and Rollo, Lagertha is sitting on the floor, and there’s some music playing softly. The volume of the chattering increases when they spot him standing in the doorway as everyone attempts to greet him simultaneously.

He sits down beside Lagertha and gives her a quick kiss. “Yeah, hi everyone.”

When Björn asks how the trip was, he answers with something funny, as per usual, then they get back to their conversations. Lagertha, however, knowing him better than anyone, looks at him questioningly.

Ragnar shrugs. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Lagertha leaves it at that, but Floki overhears, and he asks with a giggle: “Is it a girl?”

He looks at his friend with a frown and tries to shake it off. “Sure.”

His attempt goes awry though: Rollo huffs with an eye roll, and he can’t not pick up on that. “What is your problem, brother?”

Rollo shakes his head, gulps his drink down, and leans forward with a hateful look: “You never deserved her.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ what this is about? Really, again?”

“No. Still. You think you’re so open and modern but this whole arrangement of yours is really only about one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s so you can keep fucking women. You don’t deserve her.”

“And where is _she_ in this? As far as I know, she also fucks people. Have you heard of Astrid?”

“I would be ashamed in your place that my girlfriend needs another woman to keep her happy. It is because you can’t give it to her.”

“Okay now,” Björn chimes in, “that’s enough. Mom is happy. Everyone’s happy.”

“Björn’s right, Rollo,” Lagertha agrees. “We’ve talked about this.”

Rollo looks around the room, lets out an irritated huff, and after putting his empty glass of beer down, he exits the room, leaving behind an awkward silence.

Floki giggles into the tension. “So, what does she look like?”

Ragnar shoots a frustrated look at him. “Blue eyes, dark hair.”

“That’s it? I meant her body!”

Lagertha shakes her head in disbelief and takes a sip from her beer.

“Ehm, slim but muscular…” Ragnar begins. Floki eyes him suspiciously. He adds, just for the fun of it, “Hairy.”

They all look at him with nearly visible question marks above their heads.

“Did I forget to mention? He’s a he.”

They burst out in laughter. Halfdan is hitting Björn’s leg in his lap while laughing, and says: “That happened to me too once! You can never tell nowadays…” Björn pats his shoulder.

“Oh no, this was intentional,” Ragnar clarifies with a grin. “Very intentional. He’s beautiful.”

Halfdan looks at Björn sideways, and shrugs. “Well, that too.”

Ragnar looks at the two of them with a knowing little smile. “Do what you enjoy.”

It’s not that they don’t know about him being bisexual, it’s rather that they don’t usually talk about it. Floki is only interested in the women, and he’s the only one who asks about it every time (except for Lagertha, of course, but that happens in private). When it wasn’t a woman, Ragnar usually just answers with that, and Floki changes the topic.

Then, fortunately, they hear noises, followed by the appearance of Ubbe and Hvitserk. As they sit down, the conversation continues, and the tension fades. Ragnar gets up after a while and, putting up shoes and a coat, he walks out to the garden with his phone in his hand. He dials Athelstan’s number and waits a few minutes.

“Ragnar? Hello! I’m sorry, I was just chatting with Rose about her flowers. Did you know she doesn’t have any roses? Ironic, huh?”

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he smiles.

Ragnar can absolutely imagine Athelstan blushing. “Yours too. How did the catching up go?”

“It was fine. I got into a fight with my brother, but I guess it’s not unusual. I told them about you.”

“Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told them I slept with someone. And that someone has blue eyes. And dark hair. _Everywhere._ ”

“You didn’t!”

“Okay, maybe not the everywhere part. But it’s true,” Ragnar laughs teasingly. Then adds, “You’re totally blushing now.”

“Maybe I am…”

“But you’re blushing because of me.”

“Everything is because of you.”

In the following few days he starts working on the videos. He decides to put parts of the first one they recorded in Athelstan’s garden in the second one where they roam the streets of the city, so he basically merges the two videos into a single but awesome one. Shortly after he uploads it, he gets flooded by notifications from young girls drooling over how cute they are together and congratulating him on convincing Athelstan to appear on screen.

He sends a message to the aforementioned man.

 **@RL:** Did you check out the comments on our video together?

 **@RL:** It’s good they can’t see what I did to you afterwards ;)

 **@AA:** (Yes, I’m blushing, hope you like it.)

Ragnar’s lips turn into a devilish smile. Of course he likes it. In fact, he’ll make it worse.

 **@RL:** I can make you scream my name any time.

 **@AA:** You wish.

 **@RL:** Is that a challenge? ;)

 **@AA:** Take it as you want…

 **@RL:** Oh now Sir Monk is the one flirting!

 **@AA:** I learned it from the best master.

 **@RL:** Really? Now I’m jealous.

 **@AA:** You shouldn’t be. He’s very similar to you and I could scream his name all day long.

Ragnar’s jaw drops in disbelief. He’s also aroused which Lagertha, sitting beside him, notices, and climbs into his lap.

She basically purrs: “Are you talking to him?”

“Yes.”

“Call him with video.”

Ragnar glances up at her with a smirk, and first he simply dials the man.

“Hello Athelstan, are you up for a little naughtiness? My girlfriend is here, and she’s very _excited_ to get to know you.”

Lagertha starts swaying in his lap, signaling that she is indeed very excited.

“Ehm, your girlfriend?”

“Yes, her name is Lagertha. We’re in an open relationship. Do you want to join us?” He puts the call on speaker and taps the video button too.

“Wow. Hi, Lagertha,” Athelstan says. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Let me see you,” she purrs. When she sees the man’s shy look, she adds, “Hmm, good catch, Ragnar. I’d love to undress you, Athelstan. Would you do it for me?”

The man sets down his phone and obeys. Meanwhile Lagertha does the same, her breasts fall free, and Ragnar starts licking and sucking on one of them.

Lagertha moans and says, “Touch yourself, Athelstan. Imagine you’re here. Would you like to kiss me?”

“Yes,” he says sheepishly but he doesn’t move. Instead, he just glances at Ragnar with visible doubt in his eyes.

“What?”

“I just‒ I don’t know how I feel about standing between two people in love. God‒”

“God?” Lagertha questions. “He’s religious?”

Ragnar ignores her and turns to Athelstan fully. “Seriously? Your God is worried about you joining us after we directly asked you to, us who are deliberately in an open relationship, but not you having sex with a man?”

Athelstan’s cheeks go pink, and Lagertha makes an “aww” sound in the background. Slowly nearing the phone in Ragnar’s hand she adds: “Come on…”

“God doesn’t have a problem with me having sex with a man because all people are made equal and He loves every single one just the same. And if you say you consent to me doing this‒”

“Yes, we do,” Ragnar smiles reassuringly. “We want this.”

Athelstan smiles back weakly, and lowers one of his hands with still a bit of hesitation.

“No, love,” Lagertha hisses, “I can’t see you. I want to see the whole of you. Does he have a pretty cock, Ragnar?”

“He does,” he says, and hands the phone to her. “Show it to her. I’ll be right back.”

He steps out to the living room where he remembers he last left his tripod. When he goes back into the bedroom, he finds Lagertha completely naked now, humming to the slow rhythm in which she sees Athelstan stroke himself. Ragnar sets up the tripod, fixates his phone on it, and climbs on the bed. Lagertha quickly strips him from his clothes too, and she starts kissing his chest and abs.

“Do you like what you see?” Ragnar asks Athelstan teasingly.

“Hmm,” comes the answer from the man.

“No. Say it,” Ragnar moans as Lagertha’s warm mouth wraps around his cock.

“I like what I see,” Athelstan says. “I wish I was there. I’d cover you both with sweet kisses.”

“Where would you kiss me?”

“I’d start with your mouth and neck, go down on your body, then join Lagertha down there.”

Lagertha hums in agreement.

“She likes it,” Ragnar clarifies. “And I like it too. Both of your hot mouths on me…”

Lagertha straightens herself and Ragnar can’t help but start playing with one of her boobs. She says, “We would fight over who gets to lick off your cum.”

Ragnar giggles. “Careful, she’s a fiery one.”

“I can imagine,” Athelstan smiles. “Kiss her for me?”

Ragnar cups her face and he really tries to imitate the way he thinks Athelstan would kiss her. Lagertha moves into his lap and starts rocking her hips.

“Can you see us well enough?” Ragnar asks.

“Turn sideways.”

Ragnar grabs the woman and turns around with her. She giggles in response.

“I would suck your cock while she rides me,” Ragnar says to Athelstan with a moan when he feels himself inside the warmth of his girlfriend.

Athelstan whimpers in response.

“Yeah, you’d like that? Show yourself. Show me how you’re jerking off to us.”

The man sheepishly lets out a breath but obeys.

Soon Lagertha screams out her boyfriend’s name, and he feels her whole body tighten, then relax completely.

He rolls her on her back, thus getting on top, and asks Athelstan: “Are you close? Let’s cum together, let her imagine you’re spraying it on her while I fill her.”

Athelstan moans and mumbles: “Mm, yeah, I’m close, I’m close.”

Ragnar lets out a heavy sigh as he lets his sperm inside her, and watches as Athelstan’s cover his stomach.

“Mm, you look so beautiful,” Lagertha leans closer to the phone. “We would lick it off of you together.”

Athelstan blushes and starts cleaning himself with a tissue.

“Hey,” Lagertha calls out, “don’t go just yet, okay? Cuddling afterwards is just as important as the sex itself. Cuddle with us, okay?”

“Okay,” Athelstan nods, and gets under the blanket.

Ragnar pulls the tripod closer, lies down on his back and Lagertha rests her head on his chest.

“So how did you two meet?” Lagertha asks.

“There were a large group of young girls requesting it online,” Ragnar explains.

“The better question is,” Athelstan says, “how did _you_ two meet?”

Lagertha chuckles. “That is a tale as old as time.”

“We met in high school. I spotted her first when she was shouting at some kid who bullied a smaller one,” Ragnar says while playing with one of her nipples. “I immediately knew I had to get her. Then, you know, it just happened. There were some difficulties but I managed to win her over.”

“That’s sweet. And you mentioned some children?”

“Yes, I got pregnant in high school. We grew up fast,” Lagertha smiles with a hint of pain in her voice. “But, of course, I wouldn’t give up Björn for anything.”

“But yeah, we got together and became parents in high school, so shortly after graduation we had a major fallback when we broke up, and I started travelling because I felt that was what I needed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not proud of the fact that I left Lagertha alone with a baby. But I did, and during my travels, I met another woman, Aslaug. I don’t know what I was thinking but I was with her for years, even though she’s insufferable and we have basically nothing in common. Anyways, we had my other sons together.”

“Wow. How many sons do you have?”

“Can you even keep track?” Lagertha jokes.

Ragnar laughs. “I’ve got five, if I’m correct.”

After a short pause, Athelstan clears his throat. “So, as you suggested, when can I go visit you?”

Ragnar and Lagertha exchange smiles. Although he suspects she doesn’t feel exactly the same, he hasn’t been this happy in a long while.


End file.
